We can arrange approximations
Into things that work.
You're another.
Exactness is what remains
After tolerance falls to zero,
Which can't be done exactly.
Barometer bottoms out,
The valley breathes again.
In checked logs lizards,
Dreamless, forget everything.
Love it in the way it captures that hibernation hiatus I'm in now.... Thanks!
ReplyDeleteI Love all of the recent poems,per usual. I was finally able to get some images on my blog. Check it out. Annie B.
ReplyDeleteThanks again for your "sharing".